1. |
Chump Change
05:07
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In eighteen-hundred and forty-nine
The western shine pulled the boys from their homes
And it made the river cry
When men with yellowed eyes, like jaundice,
Drowned their souls
Hey prospector, gonna strike it rich on your own?
You’re drunk off the nectar
That you squeezed out of a river stone
You raise a toast
To your fool’s gold
The shadows creep to reap their own
And what they sowed in me will grow until I die
I gave up sleeping months ago
My dreams only show me what I killed to live my life
Hey postmaster, got any letters from back home?
Does my wife still wear her rings?
Do you know how tall my kids have grown?
They could be ghosts
For all I know
I ran for the money
I’m sorry honey, but I’m wallet-whipped and
She, she don’t like me writing
And despises the crying
If anyone asks you tell them
I’m alive and well, I’m alive and well
I’m alive and well, I’m alive and well
I’m alive and well, I’m alive and well
I’m alive and well, I’m alive and well
I’m king of a hell
Made of fool’s gold
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2. |
Long Draw
04:04
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It’s a long draw
When you breathe all your solace
Through cigarette filters
Laced with nicotine splinters
And a cheap high
Gaudy neon signs
A bleached smile at a mister
And a full-body blister
It’s like everybody’s scared of one another
And just inventing crueler ways to cope with pain
You’re gonna kill yourself trying not to suffer
It’s a downright shame
To become a slave
To a digital brothel
A diseased mental motel
When your waking dream’s
Pornographic scenes
And reality’s dressed like a whore
It’s like everybody’s scared of one another
And just inventing crueler ways to cope with pain
You’re gonna kill yourself trying not to suffer
As the band leader lights up his smoke
Your cup starts to tremble
It’s like everybody’s scared of one another
And just inventing crueler ways to cope with pain
You’re gonna kill yourself trying not to suffer
You’re free to taste freedom my brother
But you’re quenching all your thirst with acid rain
You’re gonna kill yourself trying not to suffer
You’re gonna kill yourself trying not to suffer
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3. |
A Bitter Suite
06:06
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Take my address off of Wall Street
Rip the Rolex off my wrist
I’ll keep the time with my own footsteps
I’ll beat the earth with my own fists
Cause comfort is a pillowed pistol
A prison caked in luxury
I forget divine provision
Every time I delve too deep
If you let my hairs grow grey
Which ones would say I loved you well?
If you let my hairs grow grey
Which ones would say they turned because I loved myself?
A panoramic, painted skyline
Reminded me that I love you
What a blessed, wretched man am I
Cause I could never choose you on my own
If you let my hairs grow grey
Which ones would say I loved you well?
If you let my hairs grow grey
Which ones would say they turned because I loved myself?
It’s a bitter suite
Singing love songs with your heart divided
Yeah it’s a bitter suite
Singing love songs with your heart divided
With your heart divided
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4. |
Metaphorically Speaking
04:43
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If you were a love song
A winsome melody
I’d hunt for harmony
I’d fumble through the key changes
And when I found the pitch to sing
To resonate with yours
The windows and the doors would shake
With overtones out to the nth degree
If I was a soldier
On tour in Normandy
I’d want you there with me
Armed right up to the teeth
Though truth be told you’re not the reason
I enlisted in the war
If you fought with me I’m sure
We’d give the enemy what for
And take the beach
If you were a rowboat
I’d be a water snake
Or a net caught in your wake
Something you couldn’t shake
From off the trail you cut
If you meant to cut and run
Cause babe I won’t be done
Chasing you until sweet sunshine warms my grave
You are like a metaphor
The sonnet writer’s muse of yore
A smiling simile personified
I lack sufficient imagery
To replicate in poetry
The storylines you’re writing with your eyes
If I was imprisoned
And sentenced to my death
You’d be my last request
I’d hold you to my chest
And we’d let echo through the cell block
Songs about what we believe in
At least that’s what I’m thinking
Would be the best way leaving here could go
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5. |
Thoughtcrime
04:51
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Thoughtcrime
Do I love you?
Oh let me count the ways
I've murdered you within the deep recesses of my brain
I painted on a smile
Shaking hands when all the while
My heart’s locked in a buried chest of hate
Bust the coffers open, let the money flow
Oh the more I let you see me give, the more my ego grows
Shout prayers on the street
Blowing trumpets cause I think
My gifts will earn the love of everyone I know
I think I thought "I won't get caught this time"
No not this time
I washed my hands but couldn't cleanse my mind
Of my thoughtcrime
Am I faithful? In this fact you can trust.
Of all my closet vices, the most gripping one is lust
I’ve cheated on you so many times
If I gouged out both my eyes
It’d do no good, no
I think I thought "I won't get caught this time"
No not this time
I washed my hands but couldn't cleanse my mind
Of my thoughtcrime
Now the verdict?
I'm guilty as they come
The persecution found my blood and fingerprints right on the gun
But when it comes to casting stones
I ain’t the judge, I got no throne
Let him who never sinned throw the first one
I think I thought "I won't get caught this time"
No not this time
I washed my hands but couldn't cleanse my mind
Of my thoughtcrime
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6. |
Iscariot
05:35
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Judas was a tag-along
Among a dozen vagabonds
Following a carpenter because he asked them to
Through feasts and miracles he stayed
And thirty silver coins were paid
And when his lips betrayed the son of man
He bought himself a field
O, rabbi, what we do to you.
I would kiss you brazenfaced
Embrace you with my fingers laced
But you’d send a screaming rooster
To show me my true loyalty
So build your temple on my back
Or call me Satan
But please just keep your lampstand
Burning next to me
We’ll hang the old man tonight
Just to kill him in the morning again
Just to kill him in the morning again
You gotta kill him every morning
Grab all the rope you can find
This is gonna take a long, long while
It’s gonna be more than a while
It’s gonna take the rest of my life
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7. |
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The house paint’s peeling like a sunburnt back
All the trees are bleeding through the sidewalk cracks
They’re growing for the sunrise, robin’s-breast red
When you leave this town
Don’t leave this town for dead
Young boys born with warrior’s spines
You see ‘em always reaching for the power lines
Do the wires really bite like mama said?
When you leave this town
Don’t leave this town for dead
Mundane streets with mundane names
Mundane mobs playing mundane games
You want a parking garage pony and buttered up bread
When you leave this town
Don’t leave this town for dead
So leave your innocence, leave our dust
Go feed your burning wanderlust
We’ll keep a pillow fluffed up for your weary head
When you leave this town
Don’t leave this town for dead
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